


feelings of love

by pusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, maybe! el oh el
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusa/pseuds/pusa
Summary: Here is something we already know: Sakusa Kiyoomi is a tough guy, more or less.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 198





	feelings of love

**Author's Note:**

> #AnnoyingNarratorsFirstComeback

Here is something we already know:

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a tough guy, more or less.

Here is another fleeting thought:

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a bit of a romantic, eyes a little too rosy-colored, heart a bit soft, feelings a little (a whole lot) soft for someone.

We look at him and then we think. We look at him and then we wonder. At first, we wonder who he likes (as nosy as we are). Secondly, we wonder who Sakusa Kiyoomi is. Lastly, we wonder if Sakusa Kiyoomi really is a tough guy.

But for now, we ignore all of our fleeting thoughts and look at the scene in front of us.

We are inside the train, the rising rays of the sunlight gracing the sleepy people inside. It’s an hour past rush hour, the train filled with the elderly and some teenagers. It’s quiet and there’s enough space for everyone to sit. Some stand up, however, eyes and hands occupied by their phones, maybe a book. Our catch on two men, sitting side-by-side yet barely touching each other.

We quickly register the dark-haired man as Sakusa Kiyoomi. His eyes are droopy, sleep still seeping through him, as his hands intertwine with each other, body swaying lightly against the fast pace of the train. We look at the man beside him, neck craned up as he leans his head against the window, head bumping against it in seconds. He seems to be unbothered by it.

His name flashes in front of us. Miya Atsumu. Twenty-three years old. Libra. Starting setter for MSBY Black Jackals.

Oh. We look at each other and nod. Teammates, then.

Well. That explains the matching yellow jackets. And the little panther logos on their gym bags.

As the train zooms past, Kiyoomi moves slowly, unzipping the front pocket of his gym bag, lying on his lap, and gingerly takes out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Atsumu’s eyes drift towards the movement and he sits up straight. When Kiyoomi finishes in putting some on his hands, beginning to take it back inside his bag, Atsumu raises his hands towards him. Kiyoomi looks at him and squeezes out some hand sanitizer on his open palms.

As Atsumu rubs his hands together, the sunlight warm and gentle against them, he speaks up, voice still sleepy yet firm. “So,” he starts, fixing his face mask by his nose, and Kiyoomi finishes in closing his bag. “You and Shouyou-kun?”

Kiyoomi freezes and turns to him quickly, eyes wide. We raise our brows.

Shouyou-kun? Who’s that?

We watch patiently and quietly as Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu in silence and fear. Atsumu turns to him with a smug look. “What? Didn’t think I’d found out?”

“ _What_?” Kiyoomi hisses, voice deep yet muffled underneath his mask. “What are you talking about?”

In Kiyoomi’s mind, a list appears, and we raise our brows.

**My Closeness with the MSBY Members:**

  1. Bokuto Koutarou
  2. Miya Atsumu
  3. Barnes Oliver
  4. Hinata Shouyou
  5. Meian Shugo
  6. Tomas Adriah
  7. Inunaki Shion



( **NOTE:** this is a stupid list. Will remove this page later)

Oh. It seems like Kiyoomi is a little fond of lists.

We watch in amusement as the list appears in Kiyoomi’s mind and Miya Atsumu drastically moves from second to seventh place.

What a loaded question!

We wonder who Shouyou-kun is. We whisper our speculations amongst ourselves.

_Maybe a best friend?_

_Impossible! Look at number one! Maybe his best friend is this Bokuto guy!_

_Ah. Hey. That’s a familiar name, isn’t it?_

_Hush! This isn’t about him! Hey! There’s Shouyou!_

_Who? What? Oh! In number four!_

Atsumu raises a brow at Kiyoomi. “What, Omi-Omi?” he says, eyes wide. “I’m just askin’!”

We stop talking and turn to them again, eyes curious.

“There is nothing,” Kiyoomi starts, eyes narrowed at Atsumu. “ _Nothing_ between us.”

“Not even a friendship?” Atsumu says like he’s pouting, eyes wide and begging at Kiyoomi. He brings a hand up to his chest. “Goodness, Omi-kun! What a monster!”

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at him again and we smile at their antics. “You are annoying,” he mumbles and turns in front of him again. “We’re just friends.”

“Hm,” Atsumu hums like he isn’t convinced. Kiyoomi ignores him. “That’s not what I saw last week.”

Our eyebrows raise at the same time Kiyoomi flinches, turning to him again. We wonder if Kiyoomi will soon experience whiplash from the quickness of his head turning.

“What?”

Atsumu hums and looks behind him, to look at the city that’s already woken up. “We’re near our stop, Omi-kun.”

“What?” Kiyoomi asks again and turns quickly to the window, reeling back in shock at first before realizing that the train is slowing to a stop. “Wait, what? Miya, what was that—”

“Omi-Omi,” Atsumu sighs and stands up, gym bag already on his shoulder. Kiyoomi looks at him helplessly. Atsumu’s hand is heavy and yet feels like comfort when he rests it on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, eyes looking at him seriously. “Don’t question me.”

Kiyoomi stares at Atsumu’s retreating back and he’s quick to scramble up to his feet and to follow him outside, confusion evident on his face.

We look at each other and sigh. Oh, Christ. Another confusing story.

Since we are nice, here is the incident of last week (that is obviously still so present on Kiyoomi’s mind) (what a rather persistent memory):

We are taken back to yesterday, a simple and uneventful day in September of 2019, a simple and uneventful day at training, the sound of squeaking shoes against the gym floor echoing, the harsh breathing as they take breaks, the soft murmuring of praises and advice to one another.

It’s normal.

Except.

Hinata Shouyou is looking at Sakusa Kiyoomi.

We whisper among ourselves.

_Oh, so that’s Hinata Shouyou!_

_He looks so cute, I wouldn’t blame Kiyoomi._

_Oh, I could just eat him up!_

_Everyone be quiet! They’re talking!_

“Omi-san,” he says seriously, and we raise our brows, looking at each other. For what reason can he say Kiyoomi’s name so seriously? And _Omi-san_?

“Hinata,” Kiyoomi breathes out and accepts the towel from Shouyou’s hands. He’s quick to wipe himself with it and then looks at him in question. “What is it?”

We hold our breaths. What’s going to happen?

Slowly, Shouyou brings his palms up, showcasing them to Kiyoomi. “High-five?”

It is so, so— _mundane_.

Our shoulders drop back down from the tension and we sigh in frustration.

A _high-five_? Is this why Kiyoomi’s so panicky? What’s so bad from a high-five?

We watch then, in boredom as Kiyoomi stares at Shouyou in shock.

“You don’t have to ask,” Kiyoomi mumbles and we wonder if the red on his cheeks is because of the heat or if it’s because of something else.

Our eyes narrow. We look at each other. Hm.

Hm.

Slowly, Kiyoomi raises his hands and hits them against Shouyou’s, the sound of palm against palm soft yet loud against the gym. Shouyou bristles and grins, a sound of amusement leaving his lips as he looks at his hands in wonder.

“Good work today, Omi-san!” Shouyou grins at him, bright and pretty, before running off the benches, a small skip in his step. Quietly, Kiyoomi follows his figure before looking down at his hands, fingers curling against his palm. We look closer. They’re redder now. From the spikes he’s done or from the high-five?

From the sidelines, Miya Atsumu watches in shock, slowly lowering his tumbler away from his mouth.

**Things I’m Afraid Of (But I’m Slowly Overcoming Them. Slowly.):**

  1. Cockroaches. Yuck
  2. Not cleaning my apartment hard enough
  3. Growing up like my one uncle
  4. Cute boys.
  5. Realizing that my feelings for someone aren’t true
  6. Realizing that my feelings for someone are true
  7. Making a list where it doesn’t stop at eight
  8. Maybe professional volleyball isn’t for me



(Honorary mention: cute boys where I don’t realize that my feelings for him are true)

(Another honorary mention: a cute boy where I’m afraid that my feelings for him might be true)

(Another honorary mention: my teammate? Hinata? NOTE: remove this later, Kiyoomi)

We look back at the present. We’re somewhere in Tokyo. We’re somewhere hidden, in a small room, filled with chairs and tables, rid of people. Through this room, we can hear the muffled sounds of Japanese pop music and someone speaking through a speaker. It’s all so muffled and so far, away, in this small room. Something rustles by the corner and we sharply turn to the movement.

Oh. Not something. Some _one_.

All backed up on the corner, shoulders hunched, hands inside his pockets, eyebrows furrowed as he mumbles and mutters against his mask, is Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Instantly, we know why he’s here. Too many people. What a crowd, these fan meets! Despite being on the team for almost a year, Kiyoomi just can’t seem to get used to the crowd, to the overwhelming support they get from people. Sometimes, teenagers would take a photo with him after. It’s all nice, yes, but sometimes, Kiyoomi just wants to talk to them one-by-one, you know? What’s the point of meeting them all if he can’t spare a minute of a conversation?

Ah, well. Never mind. Those thoughts are for later.

For now, Kiyoomi stays here, in this room, all by himself, all quiet and peaceful. Here, Kiyoomi doesn’t have to answer countless questions and camera flashes. Maybe he can miss the interview altogether.

The door opens. Kiyoomi stands up straight in fear, looking at the door in shock. Again, we wonder if he’ll ever experience whiplash.

A tuft of orange hair peeks in. A pair of brown eyes. And then, “Omi-san! There you are!”

We raise our brows at the same time Kiyoomi lets out a quiet sigh of relief, tension leaving his shoulders. “Hinata,” he mutters, once Shouyou is close enough. “It’s just you.”

“Yes!” Shouyou says brightly. “It’s me! I’m here to bring you back, Omi-san!”

Kiyoomi looks at him, almost begging. “Can’t I stay here?”

Shouyou shakes his head firmly. It’s almost like they’ve had this conversation before. “No, Omi-san,” Shouyou answers him. “You _have_ to show up! You have fans, Omi-san! The great Omi-san!”

Kiyoomi feels a pout form on his lips. “Just a little while longer?”

“Meian-san’s getting angry,” Shouyou trails off then, eyes leaving Kiyoomi to look down at the ground. “And if I go back without Omi-san, Meian-san might get angry with me.”

Kiyoomi stays quiet. Shouyou looks back at him, bottom lip jutting out lightly as he looks at him with wide eyes.

“You are very cruel,” Kiyoomi says. We wonder if it’s because of what’s happening right now or maybe it’s because of something deep inside. (Like, deep inside Kiyoomi’s feelings. _That_ deep, you know?)

Hm.

We eye as Shouyou grins at him and then grabs at Kiyoomi’s wrists, pulling him closer. “Don’t worry, Omi-san,” he says sweetly, smile as soft as honey. “I’ll protect you when fangirls come, okay?”

Kiyoomi stares at him in shock, or maybe in a daze, as Shouyou pulls at him towards outside.

(Kiyoomi doesn’t mind.)

((the feel of shouyou’s hand wrapped around his wrist; familiar, warm, sweet, sticky like honey.))

(The camera flashes and the fans, he _means_.

Annoying narrators.)

For the rest of the day, Kiyoomi can’t stop thinking about Shouyou’s hand wrapped around his wrist.

For the rest of the day, Kiyoomi can’t stop thinking about what Shouyou’s hand might feel against his.

For the rest of the day, Kiyoomi can’t stop thinking about Shouyou.

(This will be rather difficult.)

They ride their own bus because they’ll be staying in Tokyo for a while. Kiyoomi takes the window seat, earphones already plugged in his ears despite the lack of music. Bokuto Koutarou sits beside him, headphones displayed as he shuffles through a bunch of papers.

We narrow our eyes.

What a familiar fellow!

The sound of shuffling paper piques Kiyoomi’s interest and he turns to Koutarou beside him, taking off one of his earphones. “Bokuto-san?”

Koutarou is quick to turn to him with a grin. Oh. It seems that both of them weren’t listening to music.

“Sakusa!”

“What are you doing?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s the closest to Bokuto Koutarou the most. (He won’t admit it to Koutarou nor to Atsumu nor to Shouyou, though). There was something about him that made Kiyoomi think that he should be wary of him, that he wouldn’t find a friend in Bokuto Koutarou. Koutarou had looked at him and widened his eyes and said, _oh! you’re sakusa! you’re always beating me in high school!_ and Kiyoomi had felt this pride and smugness. And then, Koutarou had held out his hand for a handshake while grinning, _don’t worry! my hands are clean! they even got a bit rough because of volleyball and sanitizer!_

And then, Kiyoomi shook his hand. Tentative. A bit wary. And then, “Ah! You remind me of Keiji! Do you know him? He was my setter!”

Kiyoomi found it a bit odd.

But.

Oh, well.

That’s all right. That was almost a year ago. Kiyoomi grew to like Koutarou, and his friend (lover? best friend? best friend-turned-lover?), Akaashi Keiji, a manga editor, his once-setter. Kiyoomi keeps forgetting to read one of the manga Koutarou lent him. Maybe once he gets home. Ah, where was he?

Yes, Bokuto Koutarou. He’d grown to be a dear friend of Kiyoomi. At first, Kiyoomi was wary of him, maybe he’d be a little too close, _too_ close. But Koutarou didn’t mind—had only given him a high-five when Kiyoomi wanted one (surprisingly), had only talked to him when Kiyoomi wants to talk (surprisingly, again, how Koutarou always seems to know when Kiyoomi wants to talk), had even talked to him when Kiyoomi felt a bit down, eyes also a bit sad as he talked with him (empathy, wow). It was slow yet sure. Kiyoomi found a friend in Bokuto Koutarou. Koutarou was really nice.

“Ah,” Koutarou answers and Kiyoomi blinks. “It’s just Keiji’s! I keep forgetting to check his literature stuff! You want to read one while we travel?”

“Oh,” Kiyoomi blinks. “No thank you. Is that for his manga?”

“No,” Koutarou laughs like it’s a joke, and Kiyoomi blinks when Koutarou grins at him with a weird look on his face. “Keiji does this when he’s bored and then he lets me read them sometimes! See, I put some of my own thoughts too!”

Koutarou shows off a page and Kiyoomi leans closer, looking at his messy yet somehow readable handwriting. He even has a bunch of colored texts. Kiyoomi reads one sentence (“really liked this one line!!”) and nods. “I see. Akaashi-san wanted literature at first, right?”

“Hm,” Koutarou hums, eyes back on the paper. “Yeah! But I think he’s okay with being the editor! But I hope Keiji gets his own manga! I’d let you read this later if you wanna, Sakusa!”

“Oh, thank you,” Kiyoomi says sincerely and notices something on the top of the page. It’s a list. Kiyoomi reads off some of it. “Maybe later, Bokuto-san.”

“Hm,” Koutarou hums again, already distracted and Kiyoomi smiles. “If you say so!”

  1. I really like your lines here!
  2. Is this a sad ending? ):
  3. Keiji, too deep!! Deep words!!



Kiyoomi smiles. “A list, Bokuto-san?”

Koutarou hums in questions and looks at the top. “Ah, yeah! You like writing lists, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Kiyoomi had once written a list then (Best Places to Eat Foreign Food in Tokyo) and Koutarou had asked him what he was doing. When Kiyoomi had explained of writing a list, Koutarou had simply gasped in amazement and then nodded in understanding. The next day, Koutarou had proudly told him that he’d like to write lists of his own now, too, just like Keiji. It was rather nice.

“I do,” Kiyoomi says and leans back against his chair. “Well, have fun with that, Bokuto-san.”

“Sure, yeah.” Koutarou leans back against his chair, too, and focuses on his paper.

Kiyoomi looks through his phone and plays a random song. Stay with me by Miki Matsubara plays. Kiyoomi looks out the window. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t think of orange hair and brown eyes and bright smiles.

Kiyoomi looks out the window with wide eyes, fear slowly creeping on him. We look in shock at the sudden mood change. Why is he scared? _What happened?_

We pry for a moment and wonder. We think of Kiyoomi’s Big List. Is he scared of his feelings? Is he scared of admitting the truth?

Kiyoomi listens to Miki Matsubara’s deep and fluid voice and thinks, the slow realization looming over him like some dark cloud. _I like Hinata Shouyou_ , he realizes, staring out at the tall buildings and ongoing traffic. _I’ve liked him for almost a year. Have I been repressing it? How long have I liked him? Do I_ really _like him?_

Kiyoomi stares outside. It’s the slow sinking on his chest as he maintains a neutral look on his face, wondering if the sinking of his feet is natural or maybe it’s just the bus floor. (It’s just his feelings.) Kiyoomi also starts to wonder if he’s just deprived of touch and affection that he’s beginning to think Shouyou’s hand around his wrist is making him go insane. (It’s kinda like that. You’re close, Kiyoomi.)

In front of them, Atsumu talks to Shouyou. Their voices are still so clear and loud to Kiyoomi. He wills himself not to listen.

“Shouyou-kun, what do you think of dating?”

“Dating? Hm, Atsumu-san, I’m waiting for someone!”

“Oh? Who, Shouyou-kun? Do indulge me.”

“That’s a very weird thing for you to say, Atsumu-san! Who says ‘indulge’?”

“I know but ignore that! I’m curious! I’m nosy!”

“I’m not telling, Atsumu-san!”

Shouyou’s laugh is so pretty.

“Hm, well, whatever! I already know who it is.”

Kiyoomi looks out the window again, more intensely, eyebrows furrowing. Does Atsumu just know everything? He’s such a Libra.

Wait.

Kiyoomi widens his eyes and looks more intensely outside the window.

Hinata Shouyou…

_likes someone?_

We raise our brows and look out the window, too. Hm. We wonder who it is.

We spare a glance a few seats in front. Atsumu and Shouyou are in a silent conversation now. We raise our brows. We look a little closer. Shouyou’s cheeks are a bit red. Atsumu’s eyes are wide and animated. And then, we gasp, moving impossibly closer, eyes growing wide.

Atsumu’s eyes quickly glance towards Kiyoomi, head nodding towards him and Shouyou widens his eyes, hands moving in front of him frantically as if saying no, but then the red on his cheeks brighten even more. This seems to be an answer enough for Atsumu, who smiles smugly and leans back against his seat, ignoring Shouyou who’s slapping his arm.

We watch in shock. And then in amusement. And then in delayed shock.

Is Hinata Shouyou—?

And then Sakusa Kiyoomi is—?

We are quick to turn our heads back to Kiyoomi, who’s still looking out the window in despair now. We want to scream at him. _Go get your boy! We can’t explain it but do it now, Kiyoomi! You have a chance!_

Kiyoomi ignores us. Well, doesn’t hear us.

He looks down at his phone and presses next, hiding a sniffle. His unoccupied hand opens and closes; fingers curling up against his palm. Kiyoomi imagines the feel of another hand against his.

Miki Matsubara gets cuts off and Kiyoomi slowly reads the English title. She’s gonna leave you by the Walters.

Oh. Ah.

Makes sense.

We watch in disbelief as Kiyoomi remains in the dark. We watch in disbelief as Shouyou glances at Kiyoomi from time to time, brown eyes peeking through grey seats.

Oh, our goodness.

**Reasons Why I Like Hinata Shouyou:**

  1. He has bottles of alcohol and hand sanitizer everywhere; in every bag he has (from what I’ve seen)
  2. Alongside, he shares these bottles with me, even when he knows I have bottles of my own
  3. He has tubs of Vaseline everywhere with him, too
  4. Once, I complained of the heat and chapped lips. Without a word, he went through his bag and gave me a tiny tub of Vaseline, new and unopened
  5. His laugh is pretty
  6. His smile is pretty, especially when accompanied with his laugh
  7. He reminds me of a cat sometimes
  8. Whenever we eat out, he’s the one who usually cooks for us and he always gives me the meat first



A memory surfaces, although a bit hazy and blurry, forgive us for that.

Here is thirteen-year-old Sakusa Kiyoomi. And thirteen-year-old Kiyoomi wanted a pet cat. Really, _really_ wanted a pet cat. And not just any cat, he wanted the stray cat that was walking around their house when it was just a baby, a mix of orange, black, and white on her fur. She was pretty and dirty, and yet, just a baby.

Kiyoomi had looked at her, meowing softly and hiding behind their garbage and felt something curl inside his chest.

And so, here is how it starts, a ripped page from his math notebook and a borrowed pen from his sister, Kiyoomi writes:

**WHY WE SHOULD GET A CAT:**

  1. I am very clean
  2. I have watched lots of videos and read magazines on how to clean a cat
  3. I have my own allowance to buy her food!
  4. Her name will be Haku, short for Kohaku (full name is Sakusa Kohaku or Sakusa Haku)
  5. I promise to bathe her
  6. I will walk her everyday
  7. I won’t miss volleyball training for her!
  8. I will be a very, VERY good owner



Please sign below if we should get a cat.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

It is the first list Kiyoomi’s ever written. Kiyoomi thinks lists are pretty and organized and concise.

His parents sign the list, or the ‘contract’, with a chuckle, and Kiyoomi beams up at them. It had been quite of an easy journey, when Kiyoomi had gently scooped her up with bright eyes and noises of amazement leaving his shock, green eyes blinking up at him, an orange spot on her left eye and then a black spot on her right, and a dirty nose sniffing, trying to get close to his face. It had been wonderful, even if he did manage to get a lot of scratches and wounds when he bathed her. Kiyoomi had decided then and there, Haku was worth all of the scratches he got.

(Although Kiyoomi did harbor a little bit of resentment for his parents and sister, then, for not helping him. Oh, well. Teenage angst.)

Maybe it was because Haku was just a kitten, or maybe she was just really friendly, but it surprised Kiyoomi, how easily she had moved into their lives, the jumping and the meowing, the scratching and the hisses, the kisses and the running around. It was what Kiyoomi loved to think about as he walked home.

Haku was easily the first and one of the Kiyoomi’s favorite pet.

(Do not be alarmed, Haku is still alive, just a little old and living with his parents. She’d grown to love them more than him as the years went on.)

And so, Kiyoomi grew up with Haku, had bathed her enough, had brushed her teeth enough, had clipped her nails enough to let her sleep on the same bed as him. He, throwing a volleyball aimlessly above him as Haku walks and purrs beside him, trying to find a perfect spot. When she was still so tiny, she had slept on his open palm, Kiyoomi’s eyes widening as she curled up into a little ball and slept peacefully. It felt like a hand holding his.

(As twenty-two-year-old Kiyoomi thinks about it, he would blame how he is unbelievably touch-starved on Haku. Sweet, naughty, noisy, clingy Haku.) (Kinda like Kiyoomi, ‘no? Ha.)

Kiyoomi had spent his teenage years, hiding away from the crowd, watching with wide yet narrowing eyes at the subtle touches, at the unclean hands, at the hugs. It irked him, then, the sudden touches of people, the growing discomfort of a growing crowd. It made him shiver, lips frowning behind his mask. He’d grown to find comfort in the way his hands fit inside his pockets, clean and far away.

(It had been some kind of hollow ache; the way he went home and waited for Haku to jump and meow at him, climbing up his sweatpants to settle on his shoulder, despite the weight she’s gained over the years. It had made Kiyoomi ache in a way he didn’t know was possible.)

(Kiyoomi looks at Hinata Shouyou and wonders what it’s like to be hugged by him, or to be held by him, his fit and lean body against Kiyoomi’s, or maybe what it feels like to be pinned down by him, body comfortable and heavy against Kiyoomi’s. Kiyoomi wants to be pinned down on the floor and be hugged by Hinata Shouyou. It irks him a little, to feel that way, to want to be held so closely.)

No worries. Kiyoomi is getting better. That’s what this story is about.

All right. Apologies if the memory was lacking a bit in detail! Us narrators aren’t really given much of a script here.

Now, this would be a wonderful montage of Sakusa Kiyoomi And His Need To Be Held By Hinata Shouyou, but alas, the studio doesn’t really have a budget.

There would be a wonderful transition here, of Kiyoomi and his growing feelings, but—sad to say—nothing really changed.

Kiyoomi keeps quiet of his feelings, grips at his wrist whenever he sees Shouyou, smiling and bright. He keeps it all to himself, the feelings and aching inside his chest, the want to hold close Shouyou to him, especially when he hides away from the crowd and Shouyou, the sweet and caring Hinata Shouyou, always comes to meet him with a smile and with his gentle hands wrapping around Kiyoomi’s wrists.

Kiyoomi wants Shouyou to hold his hand badly.

Kiyoomi also wonders if he’ll get the courage one day, maybe he’ll be brave (hopefully).

Kiyoomi often falls asleep, palm faced upwards at the ceiling and imagines what it’s like for a palm to kiss his.

(You’ll get your time, Kiyoomi. You’ll soon know what it’s like to be brave.)

**Things I’m Afraid Of: (kinda stupid now)**

  1. I actually like being in MSBY
  2. Making a list that doesn’t stop at 8
  3. How do you tell a boy you really like his eyes?
  4. Having friends is nice and scary (maybe, like, losing them is a fear now)
  5. What if Wakatoshi-kun’s spikes are harder to receive now? (More of a challenge than a fear)
  6. Hinata keeps calling me Omi-san. Should I call him Shouyou?
  7. No, no. No Shouyou.
  8. Running out of hand sanitizer



When winter is a lick away from autumn, the air a bit colder, jackets a bit thicker, they have a team dinner because they’re all friends now (have been for a year, but). Meian’s smiling, of course, he is. Shouyou’s chatting with Inunaki, a high blush on his cheeks as he takes slow sips of his beer. Kiyoomi sits in front of him in awe.

He feels a nudge beside him. He looks at Atsumu. “Omi-kun,” Atsumu whispers and Kiyoomi blinks and leans closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers, blinking blurrily, and frowns when Atsumu snorts. “Yes, Atsumu-san?”

“Atsumu-san!” Atsumu laughs loudly, pulling away from Kiyoomi. “Bokkun, did ya hear that?”

“Our Omi-san is a little tipsy!” Koutarou says, suddenly from beside Kiyoomi and he widens his eyes and looks at Koutarou in shock. “Omi-san, are you feeling okay?”

Kiyoomi nods. “Yes,” he nods, “hold on, Bokuto-san,” and turns to Atsumu again, voice down to a whisper, “why are we whispering?”

“Oh,” Atsumu says and glares at Koutarou from beside Kiyoomi, shooing him away. He leans closer to Kiyoomi and whispers, like it’s a secret, “You and Shouyou-kun?”

Kiyoomi pouts, blinking slowly. “He’s so sweet, Miya.”

“Ah, what happened to Atsumu-san?”

“No, no,” Kiyoomi shakes his head and clasps his hands together. His hands are rough and a little sticky and a little sweaty. “We’re talking about Hinata, yes?”

“Yes,” Atsumu answers seriously yet there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. “What are you gonna do, Omi-Omi?”

Kiyoomi sniffles. “I don’t know.”

“Omi,” Atsumu tuts and leans closer. “You gotta get the boy!”

“The boy doesn’t like me.”

“ _Everyone_ likes you, Omi-Omi.”

“Really?”

Atsumu’s eyes widen and then soften as he leans impossibly close. “Yes, Omi-Omi? We’re all your friends!”

“Just friends?” Kiyoomi glances at Shouyou.

“Jesus, Omi,” Atsumu laughs and pulls away, taking a mouthful of meat. “You’re fun to talk to!”

Kiyoomi stares at the sticky table and thinks.

Atsumu says Shouyou should take Kiyoomi home.

“Hm?” Shouyou hums with a smile yet his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, the yellow streetlights from outside shining brightly against his eyes.

“Look at Omi-Omi!” Atsumu reasons out and Kiyoomi turns to them, shoving his hands inside his pockets. “He can’t go home like this! What if something happens?”

“Atsumu-san,” Shouyou says slowly and tilts his head at him in confusion. “You two take the train home together.”

“Yes,” Atsumu says and someone snorts, Tomas probably. “But I’m not going home.”

“Oh?” Koutarou speaks up suddenly. Oh, he’s beside Kiyoomi. “Where are you going, Tsum-Tsum?”

“Nowhere!” Atsumu says and huffs at Shouyou’s small laugh. “Gonna be soul searching.”

“Soul searching?”

Meian laughs loudly and Kiyoomi even smiles a little. Maybe he needs that.

“I’ll go with you,” he says suddenly and smiles at Atsumu when he turns to him. “I wanna soul search, too.”

Meian coos. Atsumu looks troubled. “No, no, Omi-Omi,” he says quickly and looks at Kiyoomi with animated eyes. “You’re gonna stay at Shouyou-kun’s place, right? You can’t soul search with me right now. I have a schedule.”

“Who has a schedule for soul searching?” Tomas laughs loudly, echoing against the empty street and Shouyou laughs along and Kiyoomi turns to him.

“All right,” he mumbles. “I’m coming with you next time.”

“Hm, that’s good to hear,” Meian says when Atsumu fusses more about Kiyoomi and Shouyou. He smiles at them all and nods, keys jiggling by his fingers. “Take care in going home, okay? Especially you, Sakusa and Hinata.”

“Yes, Meian-san!” Hinata grins and wraps an arm around Kiyoomi’s elbow. Kiyoomi looks down at him. “I’ll take care of Omi-san!”

 _Oh, my goodness_ , Kiyoomi thinks hazily.

Halfway through, Kiyoomi mumbles if it’s okay to hold Shouyou’s hand.

Shouyou’s hand is so warm and fits so perfectly against his.

Kiyoomi wonders the difference between fear and love.

(Shouyou is love?)

Shouyou asks him if he’d like to take a shower before resting and then pauses before saying firmly, “Ah, no, Omi-san, you _have_ to take a shower.”

Kiyoomi nods. “You take care of me so well.”

Shouyou’s laugh is pretty. “Omi-san, you’re so weird.”

Shouyou has a lot of oversized hoodies and sweatpants. He gives Kiyoomi a bright yellow hoodie and some gray sweatpants.

“They’re very warm,” he explains with a grin. _You’re very warm_ , Kiyoomi wants to say childishly.

Kiyoomi thinks he said it, but he doesn’t remember.

Shouyou looks so pretty, fresh from a shower with apple-colored cheeks and glossy lips.

“Vaseline?” he offers a tub to Kiyoomi, fingers gingerly swiping against his bottom lip.

Kiyoomi wants to kiss the Vaseline off his lips.

Shouyou insists that he should take his bed, but Kiyoomi doesn’t want to be alone.

He grabs Shouyou’s wrist. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he reasons out. “It’s your bed and house.”

“You’re my _guest_ , Omi-san.”

Kiyoomi’s mind replaces guest with boyfriend.

“Yes, that’s true,” he says absentmindedly and begins to lie back down.

“Wait, no, no,” he sits up again. “I promise, Hinata. I’ll take the couch.”

“What are you promising for?” Shouyou laughs a little before shaking his head. “Ah, all right, Omi-san. As long as you rest.”

When Shouyou says goodnight, Kiyoomi’s hand reaches out and holds onto Shouyou’s. Shouyou’s living room lights are a perfect warm yellow. Shouyou looks so soft and warm and familiar. He’s wearing an old hoodie, Karasuno, probably. It even has small holes littered by where the straps should be. His hoodie covers his boxers, barely grazing his knees. Kiyoomi wants to be held by him. Oh, dear. Outside, a car blares its horn loudly. Inside, Kiyoomi’s palm is kissing Shouyou’s cold ones.

His palm fits perfectly against his.

“Goodnight,” he whispers and brings him closer, presses his lips against the back of Shouyou’s hand. “Hinata.”

Shouyou doesn’t let go. Kiyoomi doesn’t let go.

And then, “You’re so cruel, Omi-san.”

Shouyou’s eyes are a little downcast and there’s a soft yet sad smile on his lips,

Kiyoomi blinks. “Huh?”

“You and Atsumu-san,” he whispers, hand tightening around Kiyoomi’s. “Did Atsumu-san tell you? You don’t have to force yourself.”

“What?” Kiyoomi feels more awake. “What?”

“Omi-san,” Shouyou whispers, hand pulling away. Kiyoomi reaches out to him and his hand falls midair. “I like you.”

Kiyoomi stays quiet. His hand falls against the couch. “Hinata?”

“I’m sorry, Omi-san,” whispers Shouyou, looking at the couch. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’m sorry but I just—I needed to say it.”

“No,” Kiyoomi sits up and frowns when Shouyou flinches. “No, I mean, I like—like you, too.”

Shouyou stays quiet. And then he lets out a laugh, “You really are cruel, Omi-san.”

“What?” Kiyoomi feels lightheaded. “No?”

“You don’t have to pity me, Omi-san,” Shouyou pouts, eyes downcast. “You’re just drunk and sleepy. Tomorrow morning, you won’t have any feelings for me.”

“No,” Kiyoomi says firmly. “I’m not drunk. Sleepy.”

“Omi-san,” Shouyou whispers and looks at him then. “Goodnight, Omi-san.”

“Wait,” Kiyoomi starts to say but Shouyou shakes his head. He feels a finger tap on the back of his hand.

“Goodnight, Omi-san.”

Kiyoomi’s fingers open and then curl against his palm.

Hinata Shouyou likes him.

The hearts a heavy burden?

Hm.

Hinata Shouyou likes him _back_.

_Hinata Shouyou likes him back._

When Kiyoomi wakes up, it’s to warm sunlight against his face and soft humming from somewhere. He opens his eyes, blurrily, drowsy, and stares up at the ceiling.

He’s in Hinata Shouyou’s apartment.

He slowly sits up and lets out a quiet groan.

“Omi-san?” Shouyou’s voice is so far away yet so blurry. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi says but groans again when the volume of his voice rattles at his head. “Morning.”

He’s slow to stand up and to walk towards the kitchen, almost sighing in relief when Shouyou hands him a glass of water and some medicine. He eyes the counter, lined with fruit. Shouyou’s kitchen is pretty. Sunlight graces them and the fruit. Kiyoomi eyes the mango. He leans against the counter, the glass slowly warming up against his hand. He looks at Shouyou. Shouyou smiles at him before looking back at the fruits, hands slow and careful.

“I had a very weird dream,” Kiyoomi recalls when Shouyou’s cutting up some mango.

“Hm? What was it about, Omi-san?”

“We were fighting,” he muses, looking up at the ceiling. “And I was a writer, I think. And I kept calling you ‘Sho’.”

“Sho?” Shouyou laughs, glancing at him. “No one calls me Sho much! Only some friends.”

“Right,” Kiyoomi trails off and stares at Shouyou’s hands, at the tender way he cuts up a papaya.

“Very silly, Omi-san,” Shouyou huffs out a laugh, looking at him, quiet and easy, before turning back to the fruit.

Shouyou stays quiet and lets out soft hums, moving around easily, effortlessly, sweetly, beautifully, gracefully.

“Hinata,” Kiyoomi says, a little more awake now, as sunlight filters through the high kitchen windows. Shouyou’s working on making some coffee. This is his only chance. He grips at the glass.

“Hm?” Shouyou doesn’t look up from making his coffee. Kiyoomi wants him to look at him.

“It’s morning,” he says, a soft smile beginning to form on his lips. Shouyou looks at him then, eyes a little clearer. Kiyoomi wants to spend every morning with him.

“I can see that, Omi-san,” Shouyou whispers then, hands leaning against the counter, eyes searching Kiyoomi’s face.

“I still have feelings for you.” Kiyoomi crosses off one fear. Kiyoomi overcomes one fear.

In front of him, illuminated by the bright sunlight, red colors Shouyou’s cheek and he smiles.

**Reasons Why I Like Hinata Shouyou (new and improved):**

  1. He doesn’t mind being the big spoon
  2. He doesn’t mind that I’m the little spoon, always reaching out for him
  3. He loves cats. Sends me lots of photos of cats every time he’s out
  4. Whenever we hang out, he seems quieter, he doesn’t mind the silence, and loves to read books with me
  5. He makes really, really nice fruit shakes (the papaya one is my favorite)
  6. His kisses are sweet and slow
  7. His kisses are deep and sexy
  8. His hand fits onto mine, like we’re some corny, puzzle piece
  9. Sometimes, I get a bit moody, a bit crazy (?), he always shuts me up and pins me to the floor, calming me down and hugging me until I’m all right to talk again
  10. The way he cooks rice is perfect
  11. His hugs are so nice, especially when he kisses my jaw before letting go
  12. He has so many sunscreens
  13. He always buys me a tub of Vaseline; I own so many of it now
  14. I’m still a bit afraid sometimes, of relationships and feelings
  15. He makes me forget all about that fear as long as he holds my hands (cheesy, ew)



**Reasons why I like Omi-san, Sakusa Kiyoomi!!**

  1. He loves my hugs! My touches! My kisses!
  2. He is so, so, so, so cute!!!!!! >___< like a cat! All clingy and soft!
  3. I love cuddling him he is so tiny!! I’m the little giant aren’t I Omi-san :D
  4. Omi-san, stop looking so cute while I’m writing this or I’ll kiss you!!
  5. I can kiss Omi-san any time!
  6. I just gave Omi-san a kiss
  7. And another one!



**Author's Note:**

> :-) <3 [twt](https://twitter.com/bokkuns)


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